


Godly (mis)Adventures

by Of_Lights_and_Shadows



Series: FrostIron Bingo [21]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Mythology, Alternate Universe, Apple Child Tony Stark, Asgardian Tony Stark, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, I'm Sorry, I'm so new to this, Idun is Tony's mum, M/M, Sex Metaphors, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, fruit fucking mentioned, will come back to tags later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Lights_and_Shadows/pseuds/Of_Lights_and_Shadows
Summary: Some gods have some really "spicy" myths in their names.
Relationships: Loki & Tony Stark, Loki/Tony Stark
Series: FrostIron Bingo [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477370
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	Godly (mis)Adventures

**Author's Note:**

> For I3 of Frostiron bingo: Nesting trope.  
> This is dedicated to the frostiron server for being amazing people <3

Midwinter was upon their small town but for Stephon, a man of strong built and able warrior of the village, it was a day of blessing for, as the day began, his wife's wails ceased, as traded they were by laughter. And what laughter was that! A laughter of not one, but two! Their child has arrived into their home! And so Stephon ventures the cold winds to share the joyous news, and invite all who would join into sharing drinks in celebration. He invites the traveller who meets his way back home, and reluctant as he seems to be, Stephon manages to make him accept a night of a shared meal in his belly and a warm roof over his head. The traveller’s clothes, after all, look too worn and unfit for this cold weather of their little corner in the universe.

Wives and girls don't join them that night, for they find no use in the noise and brawl that follows celebrations like that. Instead, they visit dear Margiela for a more quiet celebration, one more fitting to quiet, wise souls such as they. A child coming to life amidst the cold is a blessing from the gods for sure, when he's beautiful and healthy a child such as he. The night for them is spent in discussions about the raising and caring, a name for the babe, and if he should be placed under one of the gods' protections.

The men however, aim to drink the night away and, when they hear the traveller knows the minstrel's trade, they all but beg him to join and share verses with them. They introduce one another, and then ask the traveller’s name in return.

“Laon I was named upon my birth” the minstrel replies, “for my father deemed it I was to be receiving the Trickster’s blessed touch.” After a swing of his wine, he continues. “What is the celebration of this gathering?”

“Stephon’s son was born early this day!” one yells. “So we’re celebrating! A child, and in midwinter!”

“Have you decided for him to be placed under any gods?” he asks, and Stephon, or the one he assumes that’s Stephon, shakes his head. “We were considering it, but it’s an important decision. I was named to Thor, and my wife to Idun.”

“Midwinter as he was born then, to Anthon would be a wise choice.” Laon contemplates. “A son of Idun he is, born in midwinter, much like yours is.” he explained. “The stories shared of him though, for polite company are not, and more suited to nightly endeavours, for he is the patron of lovers and warm nights, and guards with care for the children born under his influence. For many of those under Odin Allfather’s purview are his own for first and foremost, and amongst us travellers, he comes in guise and shares stories of his exploits. A priesthood he does not possess, so many often forget that he simply is.”

“Share with us then!” another (Samshell, he later learns) yells. “For he sounds like a god all men are alike, to enjoy the company of another!”

And Laon complies, unsheathing his lyre and sitting on a soft pillow offered to him, his story to share with all.

-//-

  
  


It was times and times ago, before most gods were simply not to be yet, and Asgard was as young as the wails of a newborn foal. Bestla woke the halls of the golden realm with her wails and Idun, from her gardens, felt envy rising into her breast. Confined as she was into her gardens, a chance to be courted was robbed of her. She did not mind, for courting seemed so tedious to her, but a chance to hold a child in her arms was robbed of her with it. An act of desperation it was, and an apple, almost ripe enough to be cut, yet not ready, she cut and took with her. A hiding place she found, within a sacred cavern, and without her realising, life blossomed in that cave, with no one realising of it, not even her, who planted the seed. Such seed, for it was no seed or man or beast, but like a tree, it grew, and in pace with Bestla’s twins the sapling god to his mother came.

Bestla came to Idun, with her sons wrapped in her arms, and Anthon skirted after them both, as if seeking a mother’s attention.

“Idun, dear,” Bestla coons, “how could you not share the news of the child you bore!”

“I did not know, or laid with any.” Idun claims. “I do not know how this child came to be.” and yet, the little kid wandered around as if he was well acquainted with the gardens, then sits at Idun’s legs.

“It is obviously of the gardens” Bestla comments, “if he seeks your company the way a child does for their mother. Mayhaps he was born by magic. This does not change this fact: You should raise him as your own.”

Idun so does, and by the time Bestla gives birth to a third son, her own has grown to be as beautiful and bright as the Sun. She names him Anthon, for in her eyes, undying flowers are the only thing that compares to how beautiful and adventurous he looks. His very presence makes her Gardens feel more alive than before, and the first critters make their appearance inside.  _ A god of wildlife, he must be, if life is attracted to him like that _ , she thinks, and then it turns out it’s not as that. All her actions, she looked back on them, to figure out her dearest Anthon came to be. Then she realises that one time she wished so badly for a child. Bestla’s words echo in her head. A child of the Gardens and magic, and she should keep it that way. She knows shame will befall her, if any were to find how her precious son was born out of her folly.

So she takes him aside one day. “Anthon, my beautiful, precious child.” she whispers. “You’re growing nicely, and I can see it in your eyes, how you wish to see the world beyond and interact with it. I do not wish for you to feel shame for what should be mine.” she begins. “You’re old enough, and care should be bestowed to your actions, for life springs from your steps and I’m afraid that being careless with it will bring nothing but ruin. You see, in these Gardens I was confined, and it was alright; for I had wished to be courted by no man. A child though, oh how much I longed to hold one in my arms! At one night, one of the apples I held into my hands, and buried it deep inside a cavern most sacred and coveted, to the eyes of gods unseen, and planted deep within. I did not know, and no one else did, that from that secret planting, a sapling would be born, nurtured by the magic of those Gardens itself. You were that sapling, my child, and I wish nothing but happiness for you. I love you most of all, and thankful I am to Yggdrasil that allowed you to be born. Heed my words though, and do not repeat my own mistakes.”

Anthon is quiet during those words, and pays the utmost attention, unlike what children his age are prone to do. “Take care where you put your dick on, my dear Anthon. You are old enough and I can see that fire that spurns creation bloom in your eyes. Promise me.”

“I promise, Mother.” Anthon replies, and at that moment, he means those words. That promise wasn’t broken, for Anthon always considered his actions with care, even the times he would end up disregarding his mother’s advice. Anthon was careful for the longest time, until Loki came to be.

It was a well guarded secret, privy to only very few of the gods of Asgard that, neither Thor nor Loki were Frigga’s natural children, yet she loved them as her own. Idun was one of those, when Frigga had confided in her both times. Idun advised her alike in both times that the sins of a parent should not befall his children, and that they needed to be raised with love, like all of the young.

The first time, with Thor, she shared how Anthon was born, while the boy poked the baby in Frigga's arms.

"You should bring him outside the Gardens, Idun." she comments. "Claim you found him here, and raised him. Nothing wrong with it. I'll be with you." she encouraged her, and Idun, knowing that she couldn't deny him a chance to finally be with his peers. Anton might be centuries older than Thor, even some moons older than the Allfather himself, but he looked only slightly older than he did when she found him.

He leaves that day with Frigga, with all promises to return and heed all advice she bestowed upon him. Anthon visits regularly, sharing stories about Thor as soon as the young Prince is able to hold a sword in his hands.

Then, Odin brings another child to Asgard, and Frigga's mind rages, not for the second betrayal she received, but for the child taken away from its home.

Anthon and Thor play together in the Gardens while their mothers discuss. Frigga sobs as soon as the anger dies down. "What shall I do, Idun? Where did Odin take this child from? Are they even alive?"

Idun tries her best to console her, yet it's Anthon who approaches with a reply and a solution. "Laufey-King is the mother, my Queen," he replies, "and Odin is their father as much as he is Thor's." There's a knowing innocence in his voice, as if he understood, as though he knew, and Idun had the faintest of feelings that her son's domain was slowly unravelling to be laid in creation. It's the only explanation she can provide on how he knows by just laying a glance to the new Prince, or by how he was found in the Gardens all those aeons ago.

Loki grows, and it's obvious that he feels more of a kindred spirit to Anthon than he does to Thor. Both have the same penchant of mischief and as they rolled from childhood to adolescence, their escapes changed nature as well. See, the gods see beyond what we can, and little worlds as your own and mine exist, as many as the stars in the sky.

Have you heard of Fioressa? Nothing but a dry rock floating in the skies, that one was, barren and empty. That was the first miracle of life that was blessed by his divine gifts. For Anthon was, indeed, a god that brings forth new creations, and Fioressa he seeded and watered with love and care. An endless storm he caused, one of wailing thunder and heavy rain, caused by nothing more than his delicate hands. And thus rise the trees, trees unlike anything you’ve seen before! They go up and high, and even cover the sun. And the young god stayed, admiring his good handiwork. The flowers and the trees are so overflowing, so overwhelming, and Anthon’s presence still so strong, no one can step in and come out as they were before.

-//-

“Fioressa sounds like a wonderful place to be indeed, if your words are do be believed.” One of them comments after the round of applause is done, and he takes a long sip from his wineskin. “Is that a story your god blessed you with Laon, to share for love, or to sow mischief and ataxia?” At Loki’s glare, the man grins. “My parents moved on before I could see their face; nobody cared later to properly bestow me a name, but people took to calling me Erison.” he introduces.

“What is your point, Erison?”

“My point is, if we’re discussing godly endeavours, Lord Loki’s own escapades shouldn’t be forgotten, no? Don’t worry,” he tries to assure Loki and his audience both, “this is a story about Loki as is about Anthon. It’s the story of the Dying Tree of Perthos and the birth of the Altanami folk.”

-//-

Altanami is the dominant species of Itris, although that wasn’t always the case. When it was getting too cold for the residents to stay, they left the surface for the Below. What they were used to was a sun that always shone, too close to the surface one could feel they could touch it. This great moving, of course, wasn’t over a few days or even months, but it was slow, and took more than three generations to be completed. It was then that the two young gods reached this slowly cooling planet. The plants of Itris were slowly dying as its other inhabitants were, since the heat they were so used to was slowly, but surely, leaving them. One great tree was left, with a trunk covered in knots of all shapes and sizes. Only few leaves remained at its branches, most of them having fallen around its protruding roots like a form of blanket.

“Take a look, Loki.” Anthon whispered, pointing at the tree. “Wouldn’t you say, a perfect hiding spot it makes, for secret treasures and jewels?”

“So you say,” said he, “and I agree. A perfect hiding spot it makes for the jewels one hides under their dirty tunics.” he comments, and helps Anthon undo the heavy belts of his garments, and Anthon returns the favour. 

The tree bark feels as rough to the touch as it looks, obviously so by the passing of time and the merciless touch of nature. Yet, at the gentle touch of the god seemed to bring life back to the half-dead thing, smoothing over the nearly decaying wood. Loki, younger as he is, hides his jewels in a knot first, hands safely securing them in their descent. Anthon’s jewels brush off the knots, gently using them to discover the unseen insides of the tree’s trunk. And then,  _ life itself  _ seems to stir inside it, and responds to the fatherless god’s actions accordingly. The Dying Tree moves and swifts, its age-old branches lowering like hands that aim to caress a long-lost lover. Indeed! Life itself has been flown into the old thing by the very essence he poured into it. It blooms and sings, and the blossoms sway with their mother, breaking out and flying away. Those little flowers settled across the land and bloomed on their own, for they carried divine waters in them and in the end, they managed to uproot themselves and walk much like others do.

Altanami thus worship their creator god, but that is no admittance they will share. He is their Father above all else, and they revere him so, not for his divinity, but for the gift of life he has shared with them.

-//-

Erison finishes his story with a bow at the people clapping. Slowly, everyone takes off to their homes, the first hours of the early morning finally upon them. Laon and Erison stay behind.

“Dramatic as always, Loki. Still as deserving as always for being the god of stories.” ‘Erison’ comments.

“And you?” Loki asks, shedding down the disguise of Laon. “Hiding again? After what you did? Where’s my son, Anthon?”

“Ouch.” the other disguised god winces. “You only call me that when you think I did something bad.”

“Which you did! Where’s Fenrir, Tony?”

“Moved out, obviously. Kids leave the nest, you know? This is what kids do.” 

“Where?”

“Somewhere around here. Don’t worry, he’s fine. I’ve been here all this time and kept an eye on him.”

“Tony…..”

“I know you worry. He’s your child, after all.”

“He sees you as his dad too, you know.”

“But I’m not his dad, Loki. At best, maybe I’m the cool uncle who sometimes does dumb things. A lot of those things involve not listening to my mother, and now I have all those kids to take care of.”

“But you like your kids, Tony.”

“Exactly. I love them so much I sometimes don’t know what to do. Aren’t you the same? Fen, Jor, the twins…. They’re all special, both literally and figuratively. How does one find that limit? All that time, and with every new child, I find myself at a loss, over and over. I love them with all my heart.”

“How are you a god of creation again? You look more like a god of family life to me.” Loki jokes.

“I’m a single father! Hardly anything resembling ‘family life’.” Tony only half protests to Loki’s jokes.

“Any particular reason for choosing this place?” Loki asks.

“Well, remember the man celebrating his wife giving birth? They were praying for a child and here I am, offering my blessings. Other than that, I didn’t have any other relations with them.”

It’s subtle, but Loki understands the meaning behind those words.  _ I didn’t lay with them _ , he means. Some moments are passed in silence. “So, are we going home?”

“Tomorrow, maybe. Let’s rest here for tonight.”

“Yes.” Loki agrees. “Let’s rest here for tonight.”


End file.
